


The New Adventure of Sherlock Holmes

by Amalia Kensington (amaliak01)



Series: Home Sweet Holmes (2019 Calendar) [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 10:05:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17159999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaliak01/pseuds/Amalia%20Kensington
Summary: After more than twenty five years of being the World's Only Consulting Detective, Sherlock Holmes has made a decision. Now, he has to break it to his wife.





	The New Adventure of Sherlock Holmes

_ I’m getting much too old for this _ , Molly thought groggily as the morning light filtered through the curtains of her bedroom and roused her from sleep. Greg Lestrade’s retirement soiree and subsequent mini-pub crawl was more fun than she had any right to expect it to be, and while even Sherlock managed to look like he was having a good time, the beginnings of the pounding in her head and the definite deep ache in her bones was a sure fire sign that those last few shots had not been the best decision.  

 

Carefully untangling herself from her still-sleeping husband’s arms, Molly pulled on a dressing gown and shuffled into the kitchen for life-sustaining coffee. Just as she finished her glass of water and two aspirin, she sat at the kitchen table, carefully stirring her spoon in her mug and watching the steaming liquid swirl. Right on cue, she felt Sherlock appear behind her, and she handed him his own mug of coffee with a smile. “Morning,” she drawled, finally turning to look at him.

 

Molly nearly sputtered on her own coffee as she watched him drink deeply from the red mug, wearing nothing but a loosely wrapped sheet around his navel.

 

“Sherlock Holmes!” she hissed at him, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Any one of the children are about to walk into this kitchen, you turn around and put on some clothes!”

 

Her husband raised an eyebrow at her. “I will do no such thing as the children aren’t here.”

 

“Not right this minute no, but--”

 

“Molly,” he interrupted with a barely contained sigh. “Do take a moment to observe, yes? Does it appear to you that any of them are in the building at all?”

 

Molly frowned at his tone but opened up her listening a bit to hear for the telltale sounds of her children in 221 Baker Street. The girls lived in 221A and Camille had always been an early riser for all that Cecelia was not. Camille would have been upstairs by now, figuring out about breakfast. The floorboards in John Watson’s old room would have given Cillian away ages ago, but the floor above her was silent as it seemed every part of the building was completely still.

 

“They’re not here,” she concluded out loud and Sherlock smiled at her in a slightly condescending manner. 

 

“Excellent deduction. And really Molly, I’m surprised you didn’t hear them all when Cyril came by to pick them up early this morning to take them to Brighton for the weekend. I even saw them off and came back and you were still asleep. Perhaps an all night bender wouldn’t be wise in the future?”

 

He leaned down to place a kiss on her cheek. “Now Doctor Holmes, will you be better at deducing my intentions in light of our current situation?” His breath was hot against her earlobe and the full understanding of what he was saying hit her.

 

A whole weekend with the flat to themselves. 

 

Molly boldly ran her fingers across the skin if his chest and maintained contact until she encountered the edge of the sheet that was barely hanging onto his hips. Hooking her forefinger beneath it, a slight tug is all it took for it to pool at their feet.

 

“I believe I can guess,” she replied. 

 

****

 

“I have been giving it some thought,” his lips moved against her collarbone, stubble tickling her as they lay together in the couch later that afternoon. She was stroking his hair as he had always been so fond of her doing and he was lazily tracing unknown patterns on her skin as he somehow managed to nestle between her and the couch cushions, an afghan settled over them in a cocoon of warmth.

 

“What have you been thinking about?”

 

“Retirement.”

 

Molly blinked at that. She couldn’t have possibly have heard right. “Retirement? As in... _ your  _ retirement?”

 

“Yes,” he replied.

 

“From being a consulting detective?” Molly was reeling. Had Sherlock finally gone round the bend?

 

“Obviously, Molly. What else could I possibly retire from?” Sherlock asked, voice dripping with sarcasm and Molly was reminded of how quickly almost all her children had picked up that glowing trait from their father. 

 

“Being an arse, perhaps?” she suggested, kissing his hairline lightly to soften her words.

 

“Don’t make jokes, Molly,” he said in response and Molly moved to sit up, forcing him to do the same. He very rarely replied to her that way anymore, and usually it was only when he was nervous.

 

“You’re serious,” she stated, trying to read the expression on his face. She took his hand in her smaller one, interlacing their fingers. “Sherlock, do you really want to retire?”

 

He glanced away from her scrutiny but rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “Everything is the same, day in, day out. People going around killing each other, not one in the lot being the slightest bit clever about it.” He shrugged. “I was thinking that it’s time to move on. Dust off some old ambitions.”

 

Molly was trying to process this news as best she could. Sherlock married-to-my-work Holmes was going to move on?

 

“What about John?” she found herself asking, despite it being not at all what she was concerned about.

 

“John thinks it’s a wonderful idea, actually. ‘Glad you’re finally settling down,’ were his exact words,” Sherlock replied.

 

“Oh,” Molly said quietly. “Well...if you’re sure that’s what you want, then you should do it.”

 

Sherlock’s eyes snapped to meet hers. “Really? You’re okay with it?”

 

“Of course!” she kissed his shoulder. “Were you asking for my permission?”

 

“No, but...” he trailed off and glanced about the room. “Your opinion is important.”

 

Molly smiled at this, nuzzling his neck before dropping kisses on his jawline. “Tell me about some of those ambitions then. The ones that need dusting.”

 

“I was thinking about bee-keeping. The modern research is fascinating and the real mystery is how they just seem to keep disappearing for no reason that anyone can get to,” he smiled at her roguishly, a sparkle in his eye. “Not anyone yet, anyway.”

 

Molly giggled as he moved to run his hands along her sides, fingers well versed on her ticklish spots. 

 

“Sherlock, we barely have room to keep the children, where on earth do you think bees are going to go?” Molly asked as he continued his ministrations. 

 

Sherlock pulled back to look at her. “Not here, obviously. I couldn’t do a proper study in the city. I was thinking in East Sutton, or Canterbury perhaps.”

 

“East Sutton? Canterbury? Those are at least an hour’s drive away! It would take you an hour just to get out of London on most days. We’d never see you!” Molly exclaimed.

 

Sherlock pulled back to give her a serious look. His eyes were searching her face for a moment and Molly felt something tighten in her belly.

 

“Molly,” he said slowly. “You did understand that I meant leaving London, right? Permanently.”

 

“You mean,  _ moving _ out to East Sutton-or-Canterbury?” She knew she was frowning now too.

 

“Canterbury, actually, there’s already a spot I believe would be suitable,” Sherlock said and Molly stared at him in shock. 

 

“And where am I in all this?” she asked quietly. 

 

“With me, obviously,” Sherlock replied, his face growing cautious at Molly’s reactions. He finally seemed to be catching on to her line of thinking so he went on, “Oh no, stop, don’t be like that. Your tenure teaching at Bart’s hasn’t been satisfying in a long time. You complain about the bureaucracy constantly, the way that they’ve undercut the budget again and again, the pettiness of the newest staff. You hate that despite your tenure, you’ve been asked to carry the load of the department due to those cuts and now have no time for your own work that you’ve been trying to piece together since before Cillian was born.” 

 

Molly was at a loss for words, mostly because of the outrage at his presumptuousness conflicting with irritation at his correct analysis of the state of her career. She untangled herself from him and stood up from the couch. She picked up her dressing gown from the floor by the armchair and slipped it on.

 

“I think I need some tea,” she said quietly as she walked into the kitchen. 

 

***

 

Sherlock watched as his wife poured the boiling water into the tea kettle and placed the lid on it to let it steep.

 

She hadn’t said anything since she’d left him in the couch and suddenly with her gone from his side, the room felt cold. He had followed her into the kitchen and was now sitting with his sheet back around him like a toga, watching her from the safe distance that he’d learned Molly needed when she was processing. 

 

_ Processing _ . He nearly snorted. More like Molly was trying to calm down. She was angry, that much he could see in her the stiffness in her back, in the way she flatly refused to acknowledge him. He watched as she pulled down two tea cups, which was a sign she wasn’t actually that furious. Something akin to relief sprung in his chest when he saw her place sugar and milk in both cups, meaning that she wasn’t actually that upset at him, but was also giving him a moment to figure it out.

 

Sherlock’s mind quickly went over the conversation, trying to place where he might have been at fault.

 

Ah.

 

He moved to stand just at her elbow, watching her pour the now steeped tea into the cups. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he said softly and she paused her movements, still refusing to look at him. He pressed on, “I didn’t mean to make you believe I was assuming that you would be willing to drop your career at Barts on my whim. I simply wanted to communicate something that I thought could be an agreeable arrangement for all of us.”

 

Molly sighed deeply and finally looked at him, reaching up to cup his cheek lightly. “I know, Darling.”

 

She stood up on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek before handing him his cup of tea. She sat down at the kitchen table, tucking her feet underneath her. 

 

Sherlock smiled as he tasted his perfectly made tea and sat down across from her, and waited.

 

“I suppose you mean for Camille and Cecelia to stay here in London,” Molly said. “And Cyril.”

 

“Yes,” Sherlock agreed, wondering if Molly was going to start again about their eldest son’s current living situation, but she doesn’t seem keen to go down that route at the moment. 

 

“And what about Cillian?” she asked instead.

 

“He would come with us, of course.” 

 

“Sherlock, he’s seven, he’s in school! We can’t just up and move him like that,” Molly protested.

 

“You know as well as I do that Cillian’s school is absolutely moronic and he’s not learning a thing there other than how to make a pest of himself the likes of which haven’t been seen since Mycroft,” Sherlock argued. “You don’t have to worry about Cillian, we can teach him at home.”

 

Molly raised an eyebrow at this. Their youngest child had proven to be a Holmes through and through, his developing mind requiring constant stimulation, more so than any of the other three. 

 

“Alright,  _ I’ll _ be teaching him at home,” Sherlock conceded. 

 

Molly concentrated on the teacup before her, running her finger lightly back and forth across the lip. She heaved a deep sigh and met his eyes again. 

 

“I’m not saying that I agree to all of this,” she started. “I meant what I said before about your retiring, and even what you’re looking to do afterwards. But leaving London, leaving my job, the children. I need to think about that some more.”

 

“Of course,” Sherlock agreed with her immediately. “It’s important to make a fully informed decision.”

 

“And we need to talk about Cillian and school, because if you’re going to be hanging around the flat, you might be better employed keeping him busy,” Molly went on. 

 

Sherlock smirked in response to that. “Of course.”

 

“Okay,” Molly said standing up from the table and leaning over to kiss her husband on the lips. “I need a shower.”

 

She straightened up and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Sherlock at the table to finish his tea. That had gone far better than he had initially believed. She might take some further convincing, but he was sure that Molly would eventually reach the same conclusion he had. She really had been terribly unhappy at her job for longer than she was admitting and it played no small part in his decision to start somewhere new. 

 

“Well, are you coming?” Molly poked her head through the doorway, her eyebrows raised at him.

 

Sherlock grinned as he stood up from the table. “Yes, Darling.”

 

****

**_The Personal Blog of John H. Watson_ **

**_End of an Era_ **

_ Friends, I had never thought that I would one day have to write this: the world has now officially lost it’s only consulting detective.  _

_ As I’m sure most of you managed to catch in the press conference at the Met this morning, Sherlock Holmes is officially retiring from the ‘game’ as he so fondly called it and I expect that most of you are as shocked as I was (granted, I was given a fair amount of forewarning about this, but the point still stands). I can assure you all that this is 100% true, and not to worry about the announcement being some sort of ploy in the devious plot of a criminal mastermind. _

_ For those of you that have followed the adventures of Sherlock and myself over the years, you are probably aware of just what a loss this will be to London as a whole. However, the I can assure you that London is safe in the capable hands of New Scotland Yard, and you can rest easy (as I know I will) knowing that Sherlock will be off starting a new series of adventures, and thus remain very much as he always has been.  _

 

****

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story on January 4th, 2013. So here we are, nearly 6 years later and I'm finally posting it. I never expected to write more for it (though there is a plot that I outlined for it) but now that I've made my 2019 calendar that will cover the Holmes Clan, I really didn't want to let this story go un-read.   
> Thanks so much for reading.


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